The crowd advance nearer--near
enough to use sticks to beat in the casements. They make an entrance,
and, in a moment, furniture, wearing apparel, bedding, drapery, are tossed out
of the windows; curtains, sheets, etc., are thrown in the air, frightening
the horses of the troopers, who have enough to do to keep their saddles;
the weather-boards are ripped off the side of the house, and sent spinning
in the air. A real Californian takes particular care of, and delights in
smashing the crockery.
Mr. Rede, the resident Commissioner, arrives, and endeavours to pacify
the people by speechifying, but it will not do. He mounts the sill of where
was once a window, and gesticulates to the crowd to hear him. An egg is thrown
from behind a tent opposite, and narrowly misses his face, but breaks
on the wall of the house close to him. The Commissioner becomes excited,
and orders the troopers to take the man in charge; but no trooper appears
to relish the business.
A cry of "Fire!" is raised; a horse shies and causes commotion. Smoke is seen
to issue from one of the rooms of the ground-floor. The police extinguish it;
and an attempt is made to form a cordon round the building. But it is
too late. Whilst the front of the hotel occupies the attention of the majority
of the crowd, a few are pulling down the back premises.
Mr. Rede sends for the detachment of the gallant 40th now stationed
on Ballaarat.
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